


All Saints

by krabapple



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krabapple/pseuds/krabapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us / let us also lay aside every encumbrance and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us </i> (paraphrase of Hebrews 12:1)</p><p>John is the witness to Rodney's passing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Saints

**Author's Note:**

> This fic coincides with "The Shrine" so there are definitely spoilers for that, but for nothing after. This is flashfic and all mistakes are mine. Also, this is a take on this kind of illness for John, Rodney, and the rest of Atlantis, and I in no way mean to extrapolate that out to how this kind of illness affects anyone else, either the person with an illness like this, their family or their friends.

John isn't sure that it's a good thing that Rodney remembers him. If he's honest, that's because of the heaviness in his chest; it's too much, too much even for him. He doesn't want Rodney to remember him because then John has to remember Rodney; has to come right away when Keller radios him, tells him Rodney's asking for him in the infirmary; has to give a crooked grin and a "Hey, buddy," at least ten times an hour because Rodney no longer remembers that John has done it nine times before; has to help Rodney get ready for bed, pulling worn, soft shirts over Rodney's head until he can see Rodney's all-too-blank eyes again.

Keller thinks it's a good thing. John doesn't want to tell Keller that she's wrong. It won't do any good to say that, anyway, and besides, Keller looks at John now with a mixture of compassion and thankfulness that John doesn't know what to do with. He wants to push it away, but he can't. Military commanders of bases in entirely different galaxies don't tell the Chief Medical Officer to fuck off, though that's what John wants to do. It's not that he doesn't like Keller; he does. She just can't help Rodney anymore, he sees it in her eyes, in the resigned set of her mouth, no matter what she says. John doesn't like the hope that's settled around her like a cloud, because it's not fair for her to have it.

It's John who says they need to speed up the message to Jeannie. They're in a meeting, a _meeting_ for God's sake, about Rodney. Woolsey is using words like strategy, Zelenka looks a little frantic, and Keller is making up charts for around the clock care, though she's only doing it because Ronon actually growled, actually _growled_ , when Keller suggested that Rodney stay in the infirmary full time. John had never admired Ronon more than he had in that moment. Woolsey had looked startled, ready to reprimand Ronon for his behavior but then Teyla had put her hand on Ronon's wrist. John knew Teyla well enough to know it was both support of Ronon and a challenge to Woolsey, and John was reminded once again why Teyla was the leader of her people. Woolsey had backed off, bitten back whatever he was going to say, but he didn't look angry; he had merely looked more thoughtful than John ever would have given him credit for.

Keller is explaining what she thinks Rodney's feeding schedule should be (like he's a dog; like the rest of them don't know that he has hypoglycemia and needs his blood sugar level -- John's mind flashes to the peanut butter power bars he keeps tucked in the left pocket of his tac vest) when John says, "Jeannie needs to be here."

Keller stops, and Woolsey speaks. "We've sent a message through the SGC --" he starts.

"I know," John says. He does. He's the one who composed the message. "But she needs to get here sooner."

Keller opens her mouth, but Woolsey puts a hand up. "Okay. Do you have a plan for that?"

John nods, because he does. He sees Teyla relax almost imperceptibly in her chair.

***

It's unnerving, the way Jeannie looks at him, to him. Like he has the answers, like he can solve everything.

John doesn't know a damn thing, he's pretty sure.

It's too much like the way her brother looks at him now, like John can fix it.

John knows he can't.

He didn't mean to be abrupt or angry when he told Jeannie that it didn't matter what she said to Rodney. He'd only told the truth. It doesn't matter, because the only person it would matter to is Jeannie, to John, to Teyla or the rest of them. It's not going to matter to Rodney, not in the end.

Not even five minutes from now.

***

John and Ronon run.

Ronon still shows up outside of John's door at six a.m. every morning. John's usually ready, lacing up his sneakers when Atlantis opens the door to Ronon's towering figure. They run the same circuit around the city they always do, just a little faster every day. Pretty soon they're up to a pace that John can barely keep up, the sweat pouring off of him, soaking his old Air Force t-shirts, stinging his eyes. They run until John can barely feel his legs, until his chest is heaving and he's sucking air into his lungs like all of the oxygen has left the room.

John's not sure how Ronon knows that he's switched to sleeping in Rodney's room, but Ronon's there at six a.m. that first morning. John doesn't ask, doesn't even say a word, just makes sure Rodney's still sleeping and reaches for his sneakers.

***

They'd been watching _Star Wars_ that night. Rodney's seen the movie so many times that he can follow it even though he spaces out at certain moments, his eyes glazing over and his mouth going slack every once in a while. But he recovers quickly, does it so fast he doesn't think anyone else notices. John does, but he's not exactly going to point it out.

Ronon had smuggled popcorn out of the mess, and Teyla had brought a case of Coke she'd had stashed away for months. The sight of Teyla at Rodney's door with Torran in one arm and a case of Coke in the other had made John smile for the first time in days. He's not sure who had turned Teyla on to Coke in the first place, but she loves it, almost as much as Ronon loves cake and Rodney loves coffee.

In spite of the soda Rodney had fallen asleep right as Red Squadron was making its run at the Death Star. John, Teyla and Ronon had stayed to watch the end before Teyla and Ronon headed out, Ronon carrying the baby in the crook of one big arm. John had stayed a little while longer, made sure Rodney was tucked tight in bed, his face peaceful in sleep. John's fingers had twitched with tenderness, wanting to rub soothing circles on Rodney's back or card gently through his hair.

John clenches his hands into fists against the impulse and lets himself out. The lights in the hallway light up a little brighter when he passes by the panels, and John doesn't know if Atlantis is trying to comfort him or reprimand him.

He wakes that night to banging on his door and the sound of his name over and over and over, loud and insistent and panicked and when Atlantis opens the door automatically John is grateful that at least he never has to explain himself to the city.

***

Jeannie finds him in the mess. He's sitting alone at a table by the window, cradling a cup of coffee. He's given up on his lunch, letting the lettuce wilt on his turkey sandwich untouched.

John looks up when Jeannie sits down and throws him a weak smile. Her tray has the contents of someone who knows they should eat something but who really doesn't want to do so; there's a bowl of soup and a roll, and a cup of orange jello sitting in the right upper square of her tray.

John doesn't know what to say, big surprise there, he thinks, so he shifts in his chair, takes a sip of coffee.

Jeannie looks down at her tray, and then up, familiar blue eyes in a different face looking closely at him.

John looks away.

"You don't think this will work, do you?" Jeannie says, and John has to admire her frankness.

John shrugs. "I trust Ronon and Teyla."

"But you don't think it will work."

John shifts again.

"I don't think so, either," Jeannie says softly, picking the spoon up off her tray and then putting it back down again.

John wants to ask why she insisted that they take Rodney there, then, especially with the risk of the Wraith. But he doesn't, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, because he knows exactly why she wants to go there, why he does, too.

They sit there, not talking, studiously eating jello and sipping coffee until John's radio beeps and Keller's voice tells him that Rodney's asking for him again.

***

Teyla comes the night before they expect Jeannie to arrive. John's not sure how she knows he's sleeping in Rodney's room, either, maybe through Ronon, but there she is on the other side of the door, a tray loaded with delicate looking china on it in her hands.

"May I come in, John?" she asks, voice soft and sweet and somehow soothing.

John throws a glance over his shoulder. Rodney is sleeping soundly, making small snuffling noises as he breathes in.

"He is peaceful; we will not disturb him," Teyla says, and John steps to the side, letting her in. The lights in the room come up a bit, glow softly as Teyla moves across the room to where John's bedroll and pillow are on the floor. She puts the tray down gently next to the sleeping bag and gracefully lowers herself to the ground, sitting with her legs crossed.

John pads over to where she is sitting, the floor slightly cool under his bare feet. He looks down at Teyla but she simply looks up right back and meets his gaze, her eyes warm and empathetic. Though she doesn't tell him to, John sits across the tray from her and waits.

"I have brought you the Athosian Tea Ceremony," she says softly, inclining her head.

John's eyebrows furrow together over his nose. "But. I. My father . . . it's not the anniversary. Well. It hasn't been a year, Teyla." He doesn't understand, doesn't know why Teyla would be confused, she so rarely is about things like this. He throws a glance at Rodney, who is still sleeping away on the bed.

Teyla smiles slightly, but it's a smile of compassion and not of humor. "I did not bring the Ceremony to honor your father or your grief for him, John," she says. "While the custom is to perform the Ceremony on the anniversary of the death of a loved one, the Ceremony can also be used to comfort those who are struggling with the sudden loss of someone they love."

John waits for more, but Teyla is silent. "But. I haven't lost anyone," John says.

Teyla inclines her head toward the bed. "I believe you have," she says.

Anger flares bright in John's chest, and at least that's an emotion he's familiar with. "He's not dead yet, Teyla," he grits out.

Teyla remains serene, her hands folded in her lap. "Perhaps not. But that does not mean he is not lost to you," she says.

John can feel his back teeth grinding, takes a deep breath at the emotion pricking his eyes. "I'm not saying good-bye," he manages.

Teyla regards him, her eyes searching his face. "I am not asking you to, John. I only wish to offer you companionship in your time of grief."

"It's your grief, too, then. And Ronon's. Did you do this with him? Or maybe we should ask him down here now." He's lashing out now and he knows it, but he doesn't care.

Teyla, of course, remains unruffled. "I, too, am feeling pain at the loss of our friend," she says. "I believe Ronon is as well." She pauses, takes a breath. "But I do not think our grief is the same as yours."

John starts to ask her what she means by that, but the complete openness of her expression, the way her gaze seems to see right through him, tells him exactly what she means. He sucks in a breath, suddenly feeling like it might be his last.

"Teyla --"

She holds up a hand. "It is not my concern what you do and do not make known, or acknowledge, or to whom. My only wish is that you do not feel that you are alone."

John doesn't know what to say to that.

"May I pour you a cup of tea?" Teyla asks. It's both a way for John to escape the conversation and a way into the Ceremony.

John nods. "Please," he says. It's a desperate sound, hoarse, but John is beyond caring.

Teyla nods and picks up the china pitcher, pouring a hot amber liquid first into John's cup and then into her own.

If John's hands shake while they drink, Teyla does not acknowledge it.

***

John is getting Rodney ready, making sure he's prepared to go. Jeannie had been here earlier, and will be back soon, but she had left helping Rodney bathe and dress to John. John didn't blame her; Rodney was still her brother, and John had been performing basic caretaking duties for days now.

Rodney had insisted on wearing the jacket John had thrown to him the night Rodney had woken him up, and John didn't argue, slipping the jacket over Rodney's broad shoulders. He moved to stand in front of Rodney, pulling the lapels of the jacket so that the garment hung straight and warm over Rodney's frame.

"There now." John tries a smile. "You're all set, buddy."

"I'm all set," Rodney repeats, a vague smile on his face. "Where are we going?"

John answers the question once again. "We're going on a trip. A little picnic. We'll get to fly in the jumper."

"I like flying in the jumper," Rodney says.

John smiles, and it doesn't matter whether or not it reaches his eyes. "I know. It'll be fun."

Rodney's face is suddenly unsure. "I'm scared," he says.

John tugs on the jacket again. "I know. But there's no reason to be scared."

Rodney still looks like his face is going to crumple any second.

"Jeannie will be there," John says.

"Jeannie's my sister."

"That right. She loves you very much."

"And you'll be there?" Rodney asks. "John? You'll be there, John?"

"That's right. I'll be there."

"And you love me, right?"

John doesn't say anything, just brushes some invisible dust off of Rodney's shoulder.

"John?"

"Hmmm?" John picks up Rodney's away bag from it's place on the floor. He slings it over his shoulder.

"You love me, too?"

"I'm your friend, Rodney," John says, using his crooked smile.

Rodney looks confused. "We're friends."

"That's right."

Rodney's face brightens a little. "Oh, good."

"Yeah, Rodney. It's good."

"That means you love me, right?" Rodney asks, face completely open.

"Well -- " John sighs. Rodney looks so lost so quickly that John can't help it, reaches his hands up and frames Rodney's face, tells the truth. "Yes, Rodney. Yeah. That means I love you."

Rodney breathes out, his whole body sagging with relief. "Good. That's good."

"Sure," John agrees, about to let go of Rodney's face.

"'Cause I love you, too," Rodney adds, eyes bright as the sun. His smile is wide and pure and completely honest.

"Okay," John says, drawing Rodney's face toward him. He places a gentle kiss to the center of Rodney's forehead, rests his own forehead against Rodney's in the Athosian way. "Okay, buddy," he says.

***

It's John who has to do it, of course. Who has to hold Rodney's head still, or try to, anyway. He knows he's the one who insisted on this, and he knows he's right, but that doesn't mean he's not shaking as he puts on the latex gloves, that he doesn't have to steel himself against the blood. That doesn't mean that the whole thing isn't gruesome, that it isn't some brutal fright fest as Keller fires up the drill, boring a hole not far from where John had kissed Rodney mere hours before.

When that . . . _thing_ crawls out, he actually has to swallow back bile. He's loved Ronon's gun for a long time, but not nearly as much as he does when Ronon shoots the damn thing into oblivion. Keller's startled, but John wants to pull his gun, too, and fire on every last remaining microscopic piece of the thing.

***

They're barely out of the post-mission briefing, as if this whole thing was a _mission_ , when Rodney catches up to John just as John gets to his quarters. They had waited a few days for the briefing; Keller had wanted to keep Rodney in the infirmary to guard against infection, and once Rodney had been released he and Jeannie had disappeared to the mainland for two days. John had barely even seen Rodney, aside from team visits to the infirmary, and he wasn't sure if that was for the best or not. It probably was.

"Hey," Rodney calls out, and John stops, turns a little toward Rodney, who jogs up.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you," Rodney says.

John waves a hand. "Nothing to thank me for."

Rodney raises his eyebrows. "I don't know. Saving my life seems like it should be on the 'thank you' list, Sheppard."

 

John shrugs. "It was my turn." He tries to smile.

Rodney doesn't smile. "Yeah, listen --"

John's itching, about ready to make an excuse about having a meeting with Lorne just so he can leave this conversation. He holds up a hand. "No, really McKay. It wasn't. It wasn't a big deal."

Rodney visibly bites something back, and instead regards John with far too much shrewdness. "Jeannie told me you were the one I kept asking for."

"Yeah, well. We're friends." John shrugs in what he hopes is a casual way.

Rodney's mouth twists. "We're friends."

"Of course. Teammates." John shrugs again.

"Right," Rodney says dryly, and John thinks with relief that he's about to drop the subject.

John's about to open his mouth, make some smart ass joke about how it's Teyla's turn next time when Rodney says, "And friends love other friends."

John's mouth goes dry. "You remember that."

"Yeah," Rodney says.

"Well. It seemed like the right thing to say at the time."

Rodney huffs out a breath. "It seemed like the right thing to say at the time? That's the best you can come up with?" He takes a step forward, backing John up toward the door. John's pretty sure Rodney might punch him, and decides to brace himself for the impact. "Jesus Christ, John," Rodney says and grabs the front of John's shirt, twisting his fingers into the fabric. He yanks John toward him, and as soon as Rodney's lips land on John's Atlantis opens John's door and Rodney pushes them inside, using their forward momentum to walk them toward the opposite wall, without ever breaking the kiss.

It's a fairly chaste kiss as kisses go, mostly because John remains stiff, lips mostly unmoving. Rodney breaks the kiss and leans back far enough to look at John, rake his gaze over John's face. John can feel himself flushing against his will.

"You are so," Rodney starts. "So . . . do you see what you've done to me? I actually don't have words. There are no words. I am _wordless_."

John starts to make a snarky comment on the irony, opening his mouth to do so when Rodney dives in again, takes advantage of John's open mouth, and launches into a kiss that is anything but chaste. John feels the slow, slick slide of Rodney's tongue, feels a corresponding slide in his gut. Rodney has a hand on the back of John's neck keeping him in place, warm and heavy, with thick, broad fingers just at the base of John's hairline. John finally kisses back, slides his lips over Rodney's and tastes the inside of Rodney's mouth, toothpaste and coffee and Rodney.

It's Rodney who breaks the kiss again, slowly pulling his mouth away from John's. They're still close enough that John can see the slickness of Rodney's lips; his pupils blown wide; the flush of pink on his cheeks. Rodney moves his hand around from John's neck to cup John's jaw.

"You were the only person I really remembered. The only person I wanted with me," Rodney says softly. "Even when there was nothing else, there was you."

John ducks his head, doesn't know what to say. Rodney huffs again and uses his grip on John's cheek to draw John's head up again. Rodney's shaking his head, but he looks amused. "I just made a big confession, here. Now it's your turn."

"Teyla made me drink tea," John says.

"My God, you _are_ bad at this," Rodney says.

"Because I thought I'd lost you, a loved one," John adds.

Rodney's face softens, and his eyes turn thoughtful. "Okay, then."

"Yeah." John leans in and rests his forehead against Rodney's.


End file.
